


Freedom in Death

by Torytigress92



Series: In A Parallel and/or Alternate Universe Far, Far Away... [2]
Category: MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: 18th Century, Age of Sail, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Pirates of the Caribbean AU, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:23:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torytigress92/pseuds/Torytigress92
Summary: Pirates AU. After Miss Jane Foster's ship is attacked by pirates, she discovers familiar friends and a love she'd long thought lost to the sea. But will he let her in, and what can come of it if he does? Jane is not free, and the only true freedom is in death...





	Freedom in Death

Freedom In Death

Pairing: Lokane  
Disclaimer: I own nothing  
Warnings: Suggestive content, character deaths, mentions of torture and some violence.

* * *

_1760_  
_The HMS SHIELD_

The wind pulled and played at the coiled ringlets that hung, lank and tired, against Jane’s neck, her body sweltering in the heavy, corseted gown of peach silk she wore. The skirts, loose and voluminous, felt more constrictive, more like a prison, than even the whalebone around her waist, or the creaking timbers that had surrounded her for four long, boring weeks.

She had left the murky, fogged streets of London behind, four weeks ago, to sail to the Caribbean to meet and marry her fiancé of one year, Captain Thor Odinson, soon to be Commodore of his Majesty’s Naval Forces in the Spanish Main.

She sighed as she stepped up on deck, the steady wind providing some relief from the squalid stuffiness below deck. Her cabin, while comfortable at first, had quickly turned into a prison and a torment, as she’d first suffered from sea sickness, then from boredom and malaise. She had only met her fiancé a handful of times, and while he seemed charming and good, he was just so…dull. All that mattered to him was his duty and his ship and meeting his father’s expectations of him, and the thought of being forever bound to this man of duty and honour, was nauseating to Jane.

* * *

She knew she should be grateful, even jubilant at the thought of marrying the handsome soon-to-be Commodore, as many of her peers back home in the tea parlours and ballrooms had swooned and sighed, but she wanted more. Ever since she was a child, she’d dreamed of adventure and excitement, of a life lived to the full with every moment and the thrill of discovery. She loved the stars and the open fields and the harsh, untameable seas. Often at night, as a child, she’d slipped away from her bed and rode her horse across her father’s estate outside Southampton, beneath the unending canopy of the stars.

All that had changed, as she had grown older and was expected to become a lady. Ladies did not ride neck or nothing across the fields at night, to watch the stars, nor did they dream of adventure or excitement. The most adventurous or exciting her life was expected to get was going into raptures over the latest fashion from Paris, or newest scandal from London, or swooning over the handsomest young gallants in the ballrooms. All boring, all annoying and completely the opposite to Jane’s taste. Her mother had despaired of turning her into a lady even as her father and godfather, a Swedish scholar by the name of Erik Selvig, her father’s friend and old University classmate, encouraged her and laughed at her misdeeds. All that had changed with her mother’s death, and her father’s face grew grave and no longer smiled when she would ride in on a morning, her skirts caked in mud and her hair askew. After her mother’s death, there was no more encouragement, just dull lessons from her governess and the pain of a memory she was expected to resemble.  
And despite her best efforts, she had grown up into the conventional young lady her mother had desired her to be, even as she mourned the wild girl with her love of the stars and mud caked on her skirts.

And then had come her debut into society, the day she became ‘marriageable’. Men, from young dandies in their velvet coats and powdered wigs to old lechers looking for a young wife to give them an heir, had been paraded before her, nearly boring her to tears. Her father had nearly despaired of settling her, until he had been approached by the Admiral of His Majesty’s Fleet himself, Lord Odinson, about engaging her to his eldest son.

Jane had known her fortune would make her eligible and an attractive prospect to many, despite her lack of aristocratic breeding, but to be engaged at the age of twenty to the son of the most important man in the land, bar the King himself, was a coup she’d been both praised and despised for. Jane didn’t care; she’d rather not have him at all.

Her only solace had been the friendship that had grown between her and Thor’s younger brother, the handsome but less admired Loki Odinson. Dark where his father and brother were fair, pale where they were golden, he was desired by many but he often rebuffed any attempts to engage him with cool sarcasm and a wit too scathing to be considered charming. Compared to Thor’s dull pronouncements about his duty and his arrogant demands, Loki had been both scintillating and engaging company to Jane during their brief acquaintance. She had earned herself yet more fame for being the one woman, other than his mother, who had tamed the infamous Loki Odinson into conversation and held his attention for more than a moment.

Many had whispered, behind perfumed hands and silk fans, that the odd Foster girl and the cold, unsociable younger Odinson would have been a fair more suitable match than shackling the poor elder Odinson brother with such an odd wife.

Their acquaintance had been cut short, nine months before her departure from London, just after Jane’s betrothal had been formally announced, and Loki had seemingly disappeared overnight. When Jane had asked Thor where Loki was, he’d simply told her that his father had arranged a marriage for Loki to a wealthy Creole, out in the West Indies, and that he had been sent there to complete the marriage. She had been more saddened than she’d realised, but that had been nothing to the pain she’d felt when the news came, a month later, that Loki’s ship had been taken by pirates and all thought lost. After that, Thor had departed to the Spanish Main with his ship and crew, along with a host of others, to patrol the trade routes and protect merchant ships from attack.

Thor’s departure and Loki’s death had pained her. While she did not find her future husband to be an excessively engaging man, who rarely challenged her intellect or acknowledged her own wit and strength of mind, he was good and steady and solid. He would take care of her. She just did not love him.

Loki…. _ **he**_ she refused to think anymore of. It was no good to dwell on what would not be, just as she could not dwell on the lost dreams of her childhood and adolescence.

* * *

The wind plucked at her dress, as she put up her parasol to shield her pale skin from the sunlight. She would rather have felt the heat on her skin, and relished it, so alien and exotic compared to the weak sunlight of her native England, but it was not the done thing for young ladies of wealth and breeding to expose their skin to the sun.

All around her, the men scurried over the rigging like especially acrobatic ants in their dark clothing and hoarse voices, shouting orders, relaying them from the smartly uniformed officers that patrolled the quarter deck. The Captain spotted her with an aggrieved sigh, as he hurried across the quarterdeck as she ascended the stairs.

“Miss Foster, once again it seems I must remind you of the rules onboard my vessel. The deck of a ship of the line is no place for a young lady,” Captain Coulson told her pompously, as Jane exhaled heavily, mentally rolling her eyes. “I must ask you to return to your cabin.”

“With all due respect, Captain,” she replied, her words polite but her tone cutting. “But unless you and your officers are planning to ravish me on the quarterdeck, I doubt I will be in much danger. I should so hate to inform my fiancé that I sickened on the voyage due to inactivity and boredom due to the overzealousness of the Captain…”

The Captain bristled but the threat of her husband-to-be always worked like a charm with these stuffy Navy types. He glared at her, before walking away with a grunt and a mock-respectful bow in her direction. Feeling slightly buoyed by her victory, Jane strolled to the railing at the stern of the ship, looking out at the horizon and the direction of her former home.

She idly wondered how long it would be before she saw England again. Not so much out of fondness, on the contrary, she was looking forward to seeing a new country, a new world, but she wondered how long Thor’s zeal for hunting down pirates would last. His brother’s death had wounded him and he blamed himself for it, hence his new fervour for destroying pirate kind but…it would not bring Loki back.

At that thought, she looked down, gazing at the hypnotic glitter of the sunlight on the waves, the lace at her elbows ruffling in the wind, just as she heard a shout from the crow’s nest.

“Ship ahoy!”

Her head shot up and her eyes widened as she took in the proud, towering vessel sailing towards them, still smaller than the Shield but infinitely faster and agile both against and with the wind. Jane knew enough about ships to know that a naval ship of the line like the Shield’s greatest weakness was its weight, making it difficult to manoeuvre.

“Colours?!” Coulson roared, taking out his seeing-glass, as his lieutenants clustered to his side.  
“She ain’t flyin’ none, Cap’n!” the boy in the crow’s nest shouted down.

“Pirates!” Coulson growled. “No matter, they won’t dare attack us. Strike the ensign, ready the guns.”

“They’re raising their colours, Cap’n!” another shouted from the main deck, as the crew sprang into well-disciplined action. Coulson turned to Jane, taking hold of her elbow.

“In the circumstances, Miss Foster, I must insist you return to your cabin,” he told her shortly.

“But surely they will not attack a Navy ship?” Jane replied, letting herself be led anyway. Even she had to concede she had no place on deck during a possible altercation with pirates.

“They’ve already signalled their intention to do so,” Coulson replied grimly. “But never fear, Miss Foster. They are no match for us.”

* * *

He pushed her gently towards the cabin door and she went with a sigh. Below decks, it was dark and musty as the crew shouted and cursed at each other, scurrying to their duties. She dodged them and hurried to the small cabin she shared with her maid, a young woman named Darcy Lewis, who was waiting for her with ill-concealed excitement.

“Pirates!” she gushed, clapping her hands. “Never fear, Miss. They wouldn’t dare attack a ship’ o’ the line like the Shield.”

“I’m not afraid,” Jane replied as she sat down on her bunk while Darcy stared out of the porthole. And strangely, she wasn’t; rather she felt a strange rush of exhilaration at the thought of action and danger. Suddenly there came a great explosion, the sound of wood shattering and the screams of men as the ship rocked. Darcy fell to the floor, and Jane rushed to help her up, as the ship rocked again and more explosions came.

“They’ve attacked us!” Darcy breathed. She scrambled up and craned her head as much as possible to see what was going on at the porthole. “They’ve hit the broadside above the waterline! Too high up to sink us!”

“My God,” Jane breathed, rushing to her side. “They’re going to board! Why hasn’t the Captain returned fire?”

“He can’t,” Darcy replied knowledgably. “That shot took out some of the cannon, Miss. He can’t turn around and he can’t run. He has to fight.”

“Damned Navy arrogance!” Jane cursed under her breath. Darcy turned to her with knowing eyes as she took a deep breath. If the pirates boarded, it would come down to a fight and as a child of the coast, Darcy knew all about the savagery of pirate attacks. Her own father had died fighting pirates in the Navy, and her own brother too during a raid. And if the crew lost the fight…they would be slaughtered and she…  
For the first time, Jane knew fear. It was not unlikely she would be taken hostage, if she was not killed in the fight, or…there were stories of other fates that awaited the women taken in pirate raids and attacks. Sold as slaves or raped and their throats cut after the men were done with them.

“It’ll be alrigh’ Miss,” Darcy chirped. “If the Navy loses, and that’s a big if with Cap’n Coulson and all in charge, they won’ hurt you. You’re a fine lady; they’ll take you as hostage and keep you safe. Tell ‘em who you are, who your fiancé is, and you’ll be fine.”

“What about you?” Jane asked, in a short breath. Darcy’s eyes twinkled with cunning.

“I got an idea,” she murmured. “Wait here!”

The little maid rushed from the cabin, leaving Jane alone to stare out of the porthole as the pirate ship sailed closer, and she could hear Coulson shouting orders above deck. Her eyes ran over the worn, barnacled hull of their enemy, and the carved head below the bowsprit, that of a grinning death’s head, hideous and terrifying. She could see figures scurrying about the deck and the rigging, and at the wheel a tall, black-clad figure, armed with cutlass and pistol. She shivered.

She heard the roar of battle overhead as Darcy burst back into the cabin, her arms laden with fabric. She dumped it on the floor, and Jane could see several pairs of breeches, stockings, shoes, shirts, waistcoats and hats. Her eyes widened when she saw the pair of pistols, fully loaded, in Darcy’s arms.

“I stole into the crew’s quarters and took some things. I can go as a member of the crew, long as they don’ look too closely,” Darcy explained, already wriggling out of her dress, throwing off her cap and letting her hair down. “They won’ kill me if I don’ resist. They only kill if their prey puts up a fight. They’ll put us in a longboat and leave us to drift, close to the nearest port.”

“You cannot be certain of that, Darcy,” Jane breathed, catching her maid’s arm as she loosened her petticoats. “They could kill the crew anyway, resistance or no.”

“And if I stay here, they’ll kill me for sure, or use me then sell me as a slave,” Darcy replied bluntly, as Jane winced. “I’ve seen what they do to women with my own eyes. Either way, I’d rather take my chances and die fightin’ than let them do that to me. I’m no fancy Lady, Miss. They won’ show me mercy, or ransom me off.”

Jane inhaled sharply at her frankness, dropping her wrist and looking down at the pile of clothing speculatively. “Well, if you’re going, then so am I,” she decided firmly. Holding up a hand to halt Darcy’s protests, she reached for the laces of her gown. “I don’t want to be ransomed if I can help it. Now help me out of these damn things.”

* * *

Once they’d discarded their feminine attire, their breasts bound with linen torn from Jane’s petticoats, their hair hidden beneath tricorn hats they’d pilfered, Jane hardly recognised Darcy as a woman. Maybe an especially pretty boy, but not a woman. As for herself, she could only hope she looked the same.

“Let’s find a dirty rag or something to dirty our faces some more,” she said, leading the way out of the cabin, as more shouts and screams came from above. The ship rocked and Coulson’s voice roared above the others, sounding the charge. “He’s going to get them all killed,” she breathed. “Come on!”

Everyone knew what happened to those who resisted pirates. While the Navy’s duty was to destroy their kind, Coulson’s pride had ensured their defeat already by waiting to fire and assuming the pirates would not attack them. Whoever the captain of the pirate vessel was, he was bold and clever, counting on his enemy’s arrogance to delay his counterattack.

They heard more shouts coming along the passageway, and Darcy pressed the butt of a pistol into Jane’s hand. “Whatever you do, don’ fight back unless you have to!” she hissed in her ear. Jane nodded, tucking the pistol into the waistband of her breeches and covering it with the back of the waistcoat. Cautiously, they crept along the passageway, until they heard the sounds of battle above deck. With a deep breath and one last shared look, they crept up and onto deck.

The battle was almost over anyway, the two ships connected by gangplanks and ropes with grappling hooks attached, the pirates rushing everywhere subduing the Navy men, and on the quarterdeck, Jane almost cried out as she saw Coulson fighting with a man she guessed to be the pirate captain. Tall and pale, his dark hair was loose in the wind, straight and lank, brushing the collar of his caped greatcoat, black leather accented with green. His face was partially covered by a black mask, but jade green eyes flashed in his face.

Jane was abruptly overwhelmed by a wave of familiarity, as she frowned. Coulson was fighting tooth and nail, his powdered wig and tricorn hat gone, his face red with strain. Watching as if entranced, Jane could only shout out a warning as the pirate captain seemingly danced around his opponent, and speared him through the back. Coulson collapsed to his knees, then to the deck, as the pirates cheered.

“Drop your pistols or I’ll run yer through!” a voice suddenly shouted at the two disguised women, and Jane heard a thunk as Darcy dropped hers but Jane’s was still safely hidden at her back. She turned and saw the pirate who had shouted at them, a thin, lanky man with missing teeth and dirty hair. He smiled bestially and gestured them over to a group of survivors with his own pistol. Jane knew enough about pistols to know it was loaded and ready to fire.

Raising her hands in a gesture of surrender, Jane and Darcy turned to join the survivors, but as she once again caught sight of the pirate captain, she paused and watched him, narrow-eyed. There was something about him, something she just could not quite remember…

With a thrill down her spine, she met his eyes, jade green and flashing with intelligence and guile, and she watched as unavoidable recognition filled his eyes, and her heart seized. It couldn’t be…

“Move it, scum!” the pirate behind her roared, having decided she was moving too slow and shoved her. She went down hard, hitting her head on the deck and her hat flew off, revealing her hair, long, loose and free as she sucked in a breath, winded. “Here, it’s a girl!” her captor crowed triumphantly, as the pirates crowded around gleefully, their eyes hot and lustful, making her skin crawl. “We’ll have some fun tonigh’ boys!”

“You won’ touch her!” Darcy’s voice pierced the laughter and the ribald shouts, as she took a step in front of Jane defiantly. The pirate didn’t hesitate, bringing his pistol up and taking aim.

“No!” Jane shouted, already scrambling up onto her feet but Darcy just tilted her chin boldly, her eyes flashing. A shot rippled through the air and Darcy crumpled to the ground, her own disguise falling away as her hair spilled over the deck, dark and lustrous, mingling with the blood staining the weathered wooden slats beneath their feet. With rage, Jane saw her hand rise with the pistol in her hand and take aim at the pirate who had shot Darcy. With a snarl, she discharged the pistol and the pirate crumpled, his savage little smirk still on his face as he fell, and Jane backed away, rushing to Darcy’s side.

It was too late, as she pulled back Darcy’s hair to find the wound in her breast, and tears filled her vision. Her brave little maid and friend was gone.

* * *

Jane had no time to mourn as she was suddenly dragged back by her hair, hands clawing at her clothing, tearing and groping, as she kicked and bit, filled with a fierce desire to hurt and maim. Shouts filled the air, some from the pirates, egging their comrades on, the others from the few survivors shouting out curses and insults on the pirates’ honour, until a new voice joined the fray, roaring over all.

“What is going on here?!” the pirate captain from before appeared suddenly in front of Jane, and she was shoved to her knees in front of him, her shirt torn as she tried to cover herself. By his side stood another, shorter man, his skin tanned and rippling with corded muscle, hair dark and short, eyes watching everything piercingly.

But Jane was not looking at him for long, as her eyes travelled up long black leather boots, worn by sea salt and rough wear, breeches that clung to muscled thighs, a green silk sash from which hung a cutlass, several knives and a pistol, up over his black shirt and leather caped greatcoat, to his face, still obscured by a half-mask but achingly familiar.

“It’s a girl, Cap’n!” one of her tormentors replied, gesturing to her.

“I can see that,” the Captain replied silkily, and Jane felt a frisson of unease and danger ripple around the men surrounding them, as his eyes, cold as ice and masked, met hers.

“She killed Carruthers!” someone continued, and the ribald threats started up again. The Captain held up a hand, and silence fell, eerie and unsettling as Jane swallowed hard, setting aside her grief and shock, and prepared to play her last card.

“My name is Miss Jane Foster, late of Euston Square, London. My father is Sir James Foster of the West Indies Trading Company,” she called out, her voice wavering slightly until her pride awoke, and she met the eyes of her captor proudly, her voice quiet but strong. “And I merely avenged the death of a friend and servant under my care.”

“Indeed,” her captor smiled, a sly quirk of his lips that she knew, her heart pounding. “Well, such a lovely flower as you cannot be wasted on these slatterns. Come with me, Miss Foster.”

He offered her his arm, but despite her pride, Jane’s strength had failed her and she almost slumped to the desk when she tried to stand. The Captain scooped her up into his arms, taking her weight easily, and she laid her head against his shoulder, feeling strangely at ease and safe in his embrace. She closed her eyes as his voice echoed commandingly across the desk.

“Barton, finish up here while I settle our guest. Have the men strip the ship and place the survivors in a longboat with enough supplies to get them to Spanish Town or Port Royal. Once it is done, burn the ship.”

“And the dead, Cap’n?” the one named Barton asked, quiet and firm.

“Burn them with the ship and give them to the sea’s care. A funeral worthy of a fallen warrior, none could ask for better,” he replied, before Jane felt him walking away, through the crowd of staring pirates and up onto the gangplank leading back to his ship, his step sure and confident. “Not a word. Welcome to the Sanctuary,” he growled quietly to her, as he prowled across the desk of his own ship.

* * *

Jane kept her eyes closed, feigning a swooning fit, until she heard the opening and closing of a door, then muffled footsteps before she was placed on something soft and cool. She opened her eyes to find she had been placed on a bed, bolted to the floor and covered with silken covers and pillows, opposite a great pair of bay windows through which she could see the horizon and the aft of the Shield. Her captor-cum-saviour was standing at a tantalus, pouring a measure of brandy and he turned back to her, handing it to her with a smile. “Drink. It will ease the shock.”

Jane obediently drank it, although it burned her throat, and she almost choked. “Careful, not too fast,” he rebuked her gently, taking the glass away when she’d finished. “I’m almost impressed. I should try you with the rum next.”

Jane still did not speak, instead studying him intently. The mask hid much, but now she was closer, she recognised yet more of his visage and his voice…though changed, it was still all too familiar. His eyes, now transmuted to a softer tinge of green that they had in the piercing sunlight outside, watched her too, almost wondrously, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

“I’m sure you have many questions, and I shall endeavour to answer them,” he continued, filling the awkward silence. “But for now, rest. You’ve had a trying day, and we will speak again later. Rest, Jane, you are safe now.”  
At that, he stood and made to walk out of the cabin but Jane stopped him with a single word, just for a moment, as she whispered it almost silently. “Loki.”

* * *

She saw no one for the rest of the day, as she lay on Loki’s bed, drifting in and out of slumber, too afraid to rest properly. When she closed her eyes, she smelled again the stench of cannon and shot, the screams of dying men, and the blood that had swamped the deck of the Shield. She saw once more Captain Coulson as he collapsed to the deck, dead by Loki’s hand, and Darcy as she slumped in her arms, the bullet wound in her chest leaking red.

She jumped out of her skin when the cabin door opened to reveal three pirates, one of which she recognised as Barton, Loki’s first mate, bearing a bundle of fabric in his arms, while the other two bore a platter of food and what looked like a small jug of wine.

“The Captain sends his compliments, Miss Foster,” Barton began with a polite smile, quite unexpectedly for Jane’s expectations, as the two pirates set down their burdens on a small table set against the porthole and left without a word. “He hopes you are somewhat recovered and will join him on deck for a spell after you have eaten and dressed. We have few supplies of feminine clothing aboard, but we found this in the hold. I hope it fits.”

He held out his bundle and Jane could see it was a dark blue gown, with billowing elbow-length sleeves from which lace spilled, the bodice lower-cut than considered appropriate in the circles Jane grew up in. He also had a simple white shift draped over his arm, and she took them hesitantly. “Thank you, Mr Barton,” she breathed, inclining her head.

He chuckled. “No need for that, Miss. Captain calls me Barton, but most call me Hawkeye,” he bowed and let himself out, the door closing behind him. Jane shed the male clothing Darcy had found for her, stowing them in a neat pile beside the bed, except for the linen binding her breasts. There was no corset, and truth be told, Jane found the bindings more comfortable anyway. She dressed quickly, her fingers fumbling slightly at the unfamiliar fastenings, before trying to tame her hair into some form of neatness with a comb she found atop a bureau.

Dressed, she turned to the platter of food that Hawkeye had left. There was salted beef, bread which was only just beginning to go stale and the hard biscuits known as tack, accompanied by a small flagon of wine that was strong on Jane’s tongue. She wolfed it down, feeling suddenly starved, and was just wiping her mouth with a cloth when the door opened, this time to admit Loki. Immediately she stood and curtseyed, from instinct more than anything, and a wry smirk crossed his mouth under the mask.

“No need for such ceremony, Jane,” he said teasingly, and for a moment Jane could forget everything that had happened, and it was just like they were meeting by chance in a ballroom back in England. “How are you feeling?”

“Somewhat better. Thank you for the food and the dress,” she replied courteously.

“No need to thank me, Jane. You are my guest and I would be most remiss in my duties as host if I did not take care of you,” he chuckled, his smile fading slightly when he noticed her stony look.

“Am I?” she asked challengingly. “Is it not more appropriate to call me your prisoner?”

“Call yourself what you wish, it matters not,” he retorted coolly, before presenting his arm, like the gentleman he’d once been. “Come, walk with me. I am sure you have many questions.”

On deck, the air was cool and crisp, the wind ruffling Jane’s hair, as Loki led her towards the steps onto the quarterdeck, where a crewman stood at the helm and Hawkeye scanned the horizon. Frowning, Jane turned to her companion.

“Why is he called Hawkeye?” she asked quietly. Loki chuckled.

“Because he is said to possess sight and perceptions the match of any hawk. Usually he spends most of his time in the crow’s nest,” he explained, as Jane jumped at Hawkeye’s brusque but not unkind words behind her.

“I see better from a distance, hence the name. Excuse me, Captain,” he inclined his head, heading off to the main deck. Jane watched with something akin to awe at the way he scurried and jumped up the rigging, as agile as a spider, until he reached the crow’s nest.

“He is my most trusted lieutenant,” Loki continued to explain, drawing her onwards until they reached the aft railing, and he released her, turning and leaning against the railing nonchalantly. Jane stood and watched him intently, as he chuckled again, a wry smirk visible beneath the mask. “I know that look well, my dear. You have questions: ask them.”

“What happened to you?” was the first one out of her mouth. “We were told you’d been lost in a pirate attack-”

“Ah yes,” he breathed, his chuckle turned to a bitter grimace. “Indeed I was. Three weeks out on our voyage, we were attacked by the Sanctuary, the very ship on which you now stand. Its captain, Thanos, took me prisoner.”

At that, his eyes turned dark and he spoke no more. Jane’s heart ached with pity, and she stepped closer to him unconsciously. “How did you become a pirate? Why didn’t you write and tell your family you were still alive? They were devastated-?”

Once more he cut her off, abrupt and cold, any levity gone. “I doubt it. Thor, fool that he is, perhaps but my father…”

Silence fell between them, uncomfortable and fraught, as Jane searched his face and he searched the horizon. “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, at last. “Why do you hide behind the mask?”

“I’d forgotten your insatiable curiosity,” he muttered, and despite herself, her heart warmed at the affection in his tone. “I wear the mask to hide my identity, obviously. I became a pirate because it was the only course left to me, and I do not regret it.”

“Regret what? The duplicity? Or the mindless killing?” she retorted, all warmth gone at his cold tone. “Your mother and brother miss you terribly, Loki.”

“I…do not doubt it. But it is better this way,” he eventually replied, after a time, turning to the horizon and staring at it as if searching for answers. “On the sea, I am free. And that freedom I will not give up without a fight.”

Jane’s brow was furrowed when he finally turned back to face her, dark hair uncovered in the harsh sunlight, eyes glowing and heated behind the black mask, his lips in a hard line. There was still so much he had not told her, she’d noted, evading her questions like smoke on the wind. But he had always been thus, in their acquaintance, and Jane knew better than to push him too hard or to give up entirely.

“Now I have a few questions of my own,” Loki began, his mask back in place once more, and not just the swath of black silk across his face. His eyes were cool and shuttered once more. “Where were you bound and on what purpose?”

“Kingston, Jamaica,” she replied, then paused, the words caught in her throat, as she looked away from his piercing gaze. “As for what purpose…I think you know why, Loki.”

“Aye,” he sighed. “No doubt when Thor learns of your kidnap, he will chase us across the Seven Seas.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” she asked, at last, disturbed by the sadness in his voice and not knowing what to make of it, or him. He had changed so much, and yet not so.

“We will ransom you, of course,” Loki told her, looking away from her and scrutinising his men as they worked. “As soon as we make Tortuga. We are still a few weeks away, and will put in at some small ports before we make for it. You will have to put up with me a while longer yet, Jane.”

“I suppose it’s better than the alternative,” Jane sniffed, turning away to lean on the railing, gazing out at sea. “Thank you, by the way, for stepping in with those brutes. I would have only held them off for so long.”

“You’re very welcome. I am sorry for your friend’s death,” he joined her, leaning close to her as her breath stuttered, and she looked away determinedly. She could not yet speak of poor Darcy.

“And the Captain? Are you sorry for his death?” she asked archly, and felt him tense beside her. His coat sleeve brushed her own.

“As much as I am capable of being. It was life or death, Jane, his life or my own. I chose my own,” he replied tersely, and she shook her head.

“I never would have thought you capable of such ruthlessness,” she sighed. A moment later, she felt his fingers on her chin, forcing her head around and up to meet his gaze. His strength, his callused fingers, held her in thrall and she shivered, at the heated look in his normally icy green eyes.

“There’s more to me than meets the eye, my dear lady,” he breathed, and were it not for the desolate look in his eye, she would have almost called his tone seductive. Nonetheless, her heart swelled and warmed with compassion, as her eyes searched his for an answer, for anything, to help her understand who he now was.

Eventually, with a sigh, Loki released her chin, instead offering her his arm, which she took as he led her back to her cabin, just off the Charting Room.

“You would do well to keep to your cabin, unless myself or Hawkeye is with you. There are those among the crew who would take their chance to finish what they started on the Shield,” he warned her, as she released his arm and span to face him, her eyes wide. “Especially do not venture below decks. There are many nooks and crannies in this vessel where no one would see or hear you if someone were to take you.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” she replied softly, as he smiled once more, mirthlessly, and turned to leave. Seizing her chance, her heart in her throat, she stepped forward and placed a hand against his back, through the leather and rough fabric, feeling his heartbeat thudding against her palm, in time with the drumbeat of her own racing heart. “Loki…I missed you. So much,” she breathed, as she saw his hand turn to a fist and his head bow.

“And…I you, Jane,” he replied, before leaving her alone in her cabin with her thoughts.

* * *

After that, Jane’s life turned into a comfortable if boring routine of staying in her cabin, except when Hawkeye or Loki could accompany her for a turn around the deck in the afternoons or early evenings.

Hawkeye was a brusque but gentlemanly companion, and although they spoke of little, he was always warm and polite to her. He was a stern shield between her and the lewd glares of the crewman she had escaped on the Shield. He even taught her a little of sailing, explaining the concepts and the reasons behind every command Loki gave, every movement of the ship and her workings, and Jane’s quick mind soaked it up easily. She learned he had fallen into piracy as a cabin boy aboard a Naval schooner that had been taken in a pirate raid. He’d been given a choice, serve or die, by the somewhat kind Captain, and he’d chosen the former.

Loki, on the other hand, continued to elude and mystify her. They spoke often but Jane always noticed they spoke of little things or inconsequential things from their joint pasts. The question of why he had been sent to the Caribbean beyond what Jane already knew was avoided, his treatment at the hands of Thanos always brushed aside, and why he continued to run from his family never even acknowledged. Her life, however, was of great interest to him, and he made her tell him everything that had happened to her since his disappearance.

One night, he invited her to dine with him, in the Charting Room, and she found herself dressing with especial care. She only really had the one gown, the blue Hawkeye had found for her, and during the days she had grown accustomed to wearing breeches and shirts. Nevertheless, she smoothed out the creases in her skirts that night, and tried her best to make her hair look presentable despite the ever-growing length of time since its last wash. When she finally entered the Charting Room, it was lit with lanterns, casting a golden glow over the table that always overflowed with maps and navigational equipment, and beside it was laid out a veritable feast aboard a ship. Wine and rum waited in flagons, turning the glass ruby red and dark pitch in turn, while platters of bread, salted beef, the last of the apple stores and cheese were laid in readiness.

Loki awaited her, in his usual black leather getup, but his smile when he saw her was wide and warm, one Jane had always secretly thought of as her smile. He took her hand and led her to one of the chairs set at the table, and she tried to ignore the way her pulse fluttered at his touch. Every day it was becoming more difficult to remind herself of who he now was and that Thor still waited for her.

But more compellingly, her heart leaned towards his mystery and the enigma of him, and she didn’t want to contemplate anything else until she had discovered the truth, not yet. She was determined to get answers tonight.

They ate in companionable silence, only occasionally making some remark about the wine, stolen from under the Governor of Nassau Port’s nose while Loki was posing as a tradesman, or telling her more about the art of sailing. Afterwards, he took her up on the quarterdeck, in the moonlight.

Above their heads, the stars shone in a glorious net of white pinpricks, forming different patterns and shapes in the night sky. Jane knew every one of them, knew their names and stories better than she knew her own face. She smiled and twirled on the quarterdeck, laughing joyously.

Loki caught her with a smile of his own, his arms tight around her waist. “I think you have decidedly had far too much wine, my dear lady,” he teased her, and she hit his arm with a grin.

“Hark who’s talking? You can down rum with the best of them,” she replied, eluding his grip and spinning away again with a laugh. He chased her, catching her again and swinging her into his arms, between his body and the railing. Jane stilled, her breath catching in her throat as she felt his own do the same, staring down at her through the mask. Tentatively, she raised a hand to it, waiting to see if he would stop her. When he did not, she reached up a hand and pulled the mask free, letting it fall to the deck silently, as she stared up at him in the moonlight.

His skin, slightly tanned by days in the sun at sea, was marred on one side of his face by a trailing scar, which Jane could now see ran the length of one side of his face and neck, half hidden by his hair.

“What happened to you, Loki?” she breathed. When he turned his head away from her, she caressed his cheek, drawing his attention inexorably back to her, and wondered at her power. “Please, tell me. I can’t bear not knowing what happened to you, my friend.”

“Friend?” he breathed, a huff of a chuckle. “Yes, I suppose that is all we are.”

“What else is there? I’m engaged and Thor will not stop until he finds me again,” Jane breathed. His hands tightened around her waist, and he inhaled, closing his eyes tightly. “Why not come with me? Your family would welcome you back with open arms-?”

“No.” And with just that, Loki was gone from her arms, his eyes shuttered and cold, as he stared down at her angrily. The mask dangled from her fingers, as she took a step forward, feeling bereft and angry herself, although she refused to try to understand why.

“Then tell me why!” she demanded. She met his cold eyes and refused to back down, her breasts heaving against their bindings. “Please…” her voice turned soft, and he trembled, looking away, striding past her to the railing and staring out at the horizon.

“I suppose…that since you cannot stay and I cannot leave, there is no harm in telling at least you the truth,” he finally murmured, after a long silence. Jane stepped up once more to the railing, taking a place beside him as she willed her racing heart to calm. “It is true, I was sent to Jamaica to wed a bride chosen for me, but it was not for my good. My father,” he spat the word, making Jane jump. “Sent me out there to prevent me becoming an embarrassment to his good name. My marriage was just a ruse to ensure he never needed to have anything to do with me again.”

“Why?” she breathed, feeling a strange sense of foreboding rise up in her, as Loki’s eyes shut as if struck by a blow.

“I am not my father’s son,” he replied bleakly. “All of my life, I was raised an Odinson, raised to believe I was someone of meaning, of purpose. But I am not. My birth father was a pirate named Laufey, a sadistic monster whose cruelties were notorious, my mother….well, who knows? My father was travelling back from business concerns in the Caribbean when his ship was attacked by Laufey’s, the Jotunheim. The fighting was brutal and many were slain, Laufey included. He found me in the ship before it was sunk, apparently in the care of a dying slave woman who told him who I was before she passed. He took me home, intending to give me into the care of one of his estate workers, but when my mother saw me….she could not have more children after Thor’s birth, and she told me she loved me from the moment she saw me. She swooped down on my father, took me from his arms, and declared me her son. No one contradicted her, and the potential scandal never broke. Many in the ton believed me to be the illegitimate offspring of a mistress, you see, but such was my mother’s influence that none dared to gainsay her when she called me her son.”

He paused at the end of his explanation, and Jane watched him seriously and compassionately. Her heart ached for him, but she still did not understand why he had not returned after he was captured by pirates. “Why are you running?” she asked. “Still?”

“All of my life, I was told a lie, made to think I was more than I was. The offspring of a monster, a beast in human form, but what was more I was told they…he loved me equal to Thor, but all of my life I saw only disappointment and suspicion in his eyes when he looked on me. I was never my brother’s equal in his eyes, never could be. How could I? The bastard get of a pirate? And now I understood why I would never be good enough, and it only made the lie more painful. I’d rather I’d been raised as I truly was, instead of the gilded cage he put me in,” Loki explained, still looking out to sea. “After I was sent to Jamaica, the ship was attacked by Captain Thanos of the Sanctuary. He spared my life only because he enjoyed playing with his prisoners before he killed them. He gave me this scar on my face, kept me in the dark of the hold for weeks, chained like an animal, until there was an attack. In the fight, cannon hit the hull and blew my chains free. I could barely stand but I made it to the deck to find myself in the middle of a battle. Both ships were engaged, both pirates, and I knew that I faced either death or recapture, and I would rather have died than ended back up under Thanos’s hand again, but I was determined to drag him down with me. I picked up a cutlass, and found him in the melee. I killed him. After the fight, both captains had been killed and the crews were sorely lessened. Hawkeye was the first mate of the other ship, he tended my wounds, forced me to live again, only to be named Captain of the Sanctuary. Apparently, it is pirate tradition that when one kills a captain, the killer takes their place. You wonder why I did not leave?” he suddenly straightened, turning to face Jane as she met his eyes determinedly. She nodded, and he grinned mirthlessly. “All of a sudden, I had a ship and a crew at my command, the notoriety and fear that came with my murder of Thanos clinging to my every word. For the first time, I knew true freedom. My old life is dead, my future in that world a lie and one that is long over. Yet I knew that if my face were ever seen, Thor would not stop until he found me and brought me home. Back into servitude and supposed gratitude for my beloved father…”

“You ran from your old face and name, and that is why you wear the mask. Freedom in death,” Jane breathed. Loki nodded.

“So now you know. Why I cannot go back,” he murmured, as Jane turned away, hiding her face as tears pricked and her heart burned.

“And I must. Thor will never stop looking for me and that will put you in danger,” she breathed. “So I must go.”

“Yes,” was his only reply, and Jane wanted to scream, she wanted to hit him, hurt him so this awful pressure in her chest eased, so he’d do something other than look out at the horizon, even if he struck her back. She just wanted something.

“Is that all you can say?” she demanded quietly, and he merely looked down with a sigh.

“Even if you stayed, Jane, what life would it be for you? A short violent one ending with a short drop and a sudden stop. You should not even contemplate this life, with what you have ahead of you,” he retorted suddenly, heated and angry, as she stared at his eyes, tainted quicksilver in the moonlight.

“I don’t want it. I never wanted it,” she replied firmly. “I have never loved Thor, and I never wanted to be his wife. I had about as much choice in the matter as you did with your marriage.”

“I don’t want you with me just because you wish to escape a life you hate,” he replied coldly, and she flinched away from him. “Not least because of the risk to my ship and my crew.”

“And if that was not the only reason….not even the main one?” she breathed, hearing his breath hitch, and his boots as they marched across the deck to her, his hands sliding around her upper arms like shackles, but she refused to turn to him.

“Jane,” her name was a hot, dark rush of air against her neck and she shivered. “Even if that were true, it changes nothing.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I know it changes nothing, I must go back. But if it wasn’t true, then why do you hold me so tightly?”

“You torture me, as you always have,” Loki chuckled against her hair, before his grip slid from her arms. With a shuddering breath, Jane stepped away, not looking back. Loki’s voice carried, echoing in her ears, long into the night, his last words to her haunting her dreams. “It changes nothing even if I wished it otherwise.”

* * *

The next day, a hurricane came from nowhere and Jane was confined to her cabin for the duration of it. There had been storms occurring irregularly for Jane’s entire time at sea, but none had been so violent as this one. She did not see Loki, only heard his voice as he barked orders, and Hawkeye’s as he rallied the men to fight the storm.

She lay on her bed, feeling useless and powerless, but she would be worse than both those things if she ventured on deck. She knew nothing about sailing through such a tempest. Time blurred, and she had no idea of day or night, only the familiar shouts of the men and the creaking of the hull against the howling winds and lashing rain against the porthole.

Four days after their conversation on the quarterdeck, Loki stumbled into her cabin, soaked through and looking pale and ill beneath his mask. Jane bolted from her bed to the door, taking his arm as he struggled to shut it. Wordlessly, she helped him undress down to his breeches and shirt, even tugging that off of him in order to help him dry, feeling her mouth dry at the sight of the bare, chiselled form beneath it, compounded by the horror she felt at the sight of his scars, relics of the torture he’d undergone at Thanos’s hands. She said nothing, however, just helped him into bed and made sure he was well-covered. She placed her hand against his forehead and gasped at how hot he felt. He had caught a fever after so many days of exertion and sleeplessness.

Hawkeye provided her with rags and water to mop his brow in order to bring down the fever, also insisting she eat and maintain her strength. She did not sleep but sat beside Loki, long into the night, praying his fever abated.

Before he left her to resume command of the men, he lingered at the doorway with a wry smirk. “He’s luck he’s got you, Miss. It was a rough one this time. We lost a mast and a third of the crew.”

“I’m sorry,” Jane replied automatically. Hawkeye just shook his head.

“Some of them were the bastards who tried to harm you, Miss. They’re not worth mourning,” he told her gently. “We’re making for Tortuga, we’re about a day away. You’ll have to stay in your cabin while we’re docked.”

“Very well. Thank you, Mr Barton,” she breathed, already turning back to Loki’s still, unconscious form. Outwardly serene, inwardly she was holding back tears. Tortuga meant ransom, it meant returning to Thor and the life she hated now, with a passion. She envied Loki his escape, his freedom in death, while she was bound to return to the dry, constricting world she was born into. She was dimly aware of the door closing and latching, then she dropped her rag and leant over Loki. Pressing her lips to his forehead, cold with sweat and salty on her lips, she whispered against his skin. “If I had any choice, I would never leave you again. I lost you once, I don’t want to lose you again.”

And with that final truth spoken, even if Loki would never remember it from his delirium, she curled up next to him on the bed and pressed herself into his side. As she drifted off to sleep, exhausted by heartbreak and worry, she could have sworn she felt arms encircling her waist and holding her just as tightly as she held him.

* * *

When she awoke, the sun poured through the porthole and she was alone. Standing shakily, yawning, Jane looked out on the bustling pirate haven of Tortuga and refused to acknowledge the way her heart sank. Just then, there came a knock at her door and Barton entered, with two pirates bearing pitchers.

“We’re replenishing our supplies, the Cap’n thought you’d like a bath,” he explained, and Jane smiled gratefully. She did indeed need a bath, and the cold water would be welcome in the hot cabin.

“Thank you, Mr Barton,” she replied, as they poured the pitchers’ contents into a little tub, and Barton handed her another gift from Loki, a sea-blue robe, embroidered in gold with flowers in an Oriental pattern, and left her to it.

The water felt heavenly in the stifling confines of the cabin, as Jane stripped down to her shift, undoing her bindings and letting the sleeves of the garment fall, exposing her upper back and shoulders. She washed her hair, feeling the cool trickle down her back, before pressing the sponge down the length of her neck, quickly washing her body. Even with locked doors and most of her enemies onboard the Sanctuary dead in the hurricane, she still didn’t trust that she was entirely safe. She was just struggling to reach her lower back, when she heard the door open. Her breath hitched and she almost spun around to confront the intruder, when a familiar scent washed over her and she relaxed.

“Having trouble? Allow me?” Loki offered, stepping up behind her and taking the sponge from her. Jane shivered as he ran it over her exposed back, rivulets of water rippling down her spine, the air heavy as she fought not to simply melt back into Loki’s arms. This was scandalous and wrong, but she could barely care less.

“You should not be out of bed. You are only just recovered from your fever,” she admonished him gently, as the sponge dipped low on her spine and she shuddered again. She felt his thumb nail rasp against her skin, and she gasped.

“I am perfectly recovered. Rest was all I needed,” he demurred, and she rolled her eyes. “Especially with you at my side,” he continued, and she closed her eyes.

“Have you heard anything? About Thor? When am I to be ransomed?” she asked, desperate to dissipate the growing tension between them. There could be nothing for them, she could not succumb. No matter how much she wished to.

“Yes, I have news,” Loki sighed as the sponge dropped into the tub with a splash, and Jane pulled the sleeves of her shift back up to her shoulders, but not before Loki froze her with a kiss to her exposed nape. His words whispered across her skin, and her eyes shuddered closed. “But first, I must ask. Did you mean it? What you said when I lay in bed?”

Jane frowned, her eyes snapping open as she spun to face him. “You were delirious! You can’t possibly remember-?”

“Jane, please answer me. Did you mean it?” he asked again, cutting her off impatiently. Jane trailed off, her voice dying, before she swallowed.

“Yes, of course I meant it. But I cannot stay and you cannot leave, so what is the point of talking more of it?” she asked, finally meeting Loki’s eyes fully, shocked to find them twinkling. “What is it? Tell me?”

“The survivors of the Shield never made it to port. They were caught in a storm and the boat sank. Their bodies were found washed up on the beach off Port Royal. Everyone else aboard the Shield is believed lost,” he explained, and Jane stared at him. “Jane, do you not see what this means?”

“You mean….” she trailed off, fighting the smile that threatened to break out across her face. “I’m free…? They think me dead?”

For a moment guilt smote her heart, for her father and for Thor, but it was quickly overcome by pure, inescapable joy. She was dead, her former life gone forever. Loki watched her closely, for any signs of fear or disquiet, but there were none.  
“I can stay with you?” she breathed, and he hesitated.

“I cannot promise you safety or comfort, Jane. The sea is a harsh mistress, and it is not an easy life,” he began warningly, but Jane laughed and clapped her hands.

“I do not care! Anything I do not know, I will learn willingly. Loki….” she trailed off again, eying him cautiously. “This is what you want too, isn’t it?”

Loki paused, then exhaled with a shudder, launching himself across the short distance between them and hauling her into his arms. “It is what I wanted from the moment I first saw you again, across the desk of the Shield!” he replied passionately, gathering her into his embrace and burying his hand in her still slightly damp mane of hair, face buried against the crook of her neck. Jane held him tightly, eyes wet and her smile beatific at the feel of his body pressed to hers, her heart pounding.

“We’re free,” she whispered. In death, they were free at last. To be together, with all the dangers and the trials to come.

“Aye, we are,” Loki breathed, his words shivering over her skin, drawing a shudder from her. He stiffened, but Jane did not move away, quite happily nestled in his arms and unafraid of the desire rising between them. Cautiously, he pressed a kiss against her neck and she gasped, her head falling back as her mouth fell open and her eyes shut. He laid a trail of kisses up her neck, his tongue and teeth scraping over the skin, as Jane moaned. He trailed his lips up her jaw until they hovered over her mouth, and her eyes opened. At the unspoken question in his, she smiled.

That was all the answer he needed. Their lips met with the ferocity of a passion long denied and repressed, tempered by loss and rediscovery, as Jane’s body melted against him, both yielding and demanding, as she pulled his body greedily against hers. Loki’s kiss was gentle and coaxing, overcoming her inexperience and teaching her what she longed to learn, until they were both shaking from the fire rushing through their veins.

When they broke apart, only a few inches, not able to bear parting so soon, Jane smiled wickedly. “What?” Loki asked, a smile of his own hovering over his lips.

“So far, you have not lived up much to my expectations of you, Captain. Such a fierce pirate, and here I am, at your mercy, willingly…” she trailed off, as Loki stared at her, then laughed.

“My wanton lady!” he chuckled. “You shall make a fine pirate. But Jane,” he sobered, cupping her face tenderly. “Are you certain of this?”

“Never more,” she replied fiercely, reaching up to kiss him again, as she pushed at his coat. Despite her bravado, she was still uncertain and hesitant, but Loki’s confident hands guided hers, and soon they both stood in one another’s embrace, clothing in a heap on the floor, and marvelling at the wondrous feeling of skin against skin.

“Jane,” Loki ceased his exploration of her neck to meet his eyes, and she forced herself to listen over the thundering of her pulse. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Loki. Now stop teasing me so wickedly and claim your prize, Captain!” she replied, seriously at first, but then she laughed and teased him. He shuddered, and a dark glint entered his eyes.

“Aye, my lady,” he picked her up, cradling her close as their lips met again and they stumbled ungainly to his bed, collapsing into its cushioning depths with a sigh of relief, as silence fell, punctured only by the soft sounds of desire and passion.

* * *

The next day, three figures boarded the gangplank of the Sanctuary, striding confidently above the gentle swell of the sea beneath the docks. One was a tall, dark figure in black, hair free in the wind, his visage covered by a black silk mask, while the other two were shorter and slightly. One possessed long hair of a fiery red that was tied tightly back into a queue, while the other let her mahogany waves ripple freely in the wind where they escaped her tricorn. Their feminine figure was swamped by masculine clothing, cutlasses and pistols at their belts. No one paid them much mind, except for Hawkeye as he descended the rigging.

“Everything is prepared, Cap’n,” he told Loki, before running his eyes over the two women. “And who are they?”

“May I present Miss Natasha Romanoff and Mrs Jane Blake? Two new recruits,” Loki replied, gesturing to them both, as Hawkeye’s eyes widened. He nodded his head politely to the two women.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Romanoff,” he murmured. The female pirate was legendary. He bowed to Jane. “And congratulations, ma’am,” he added, eying the golden ring on her finger. Jane just smiled. Natasha just smirked as she walked past the pirate, and Loki led Jane up to the quarterdeck.

Hawkeye watched them go, and sighed. “This is going to be one hell of a ride.”

On the quarterdeck, Jane leaned against the railing as Loki retrieved his compass from his belt and smiled. She hummed a tune to herself, and Loki turned to her with a raised brow.

“You remember the old pirate song?” she asked, incredulously. He reached out and pulled her to his side, hand tight around her hip, as she sank against him with a knowing look.

“Of course, love,” he smiled as he turned to look at the horizon, empty and clear, the wind in their sails as they put out to sea for the next adventure, in their new lives of freedom. His smile turned wicked as Jane leant up to kiss him once before he turned back to the ship, the last words of the chorus, from the song they’d both sung as children, falling from his lips. “We’re devils and black sheep, and really bad eggs. Drink up me hearties, yo ho!”


End file.
